


Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, I Want to Date You.

by rebekahdarian



Series: 5+1 Things [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Asking Out Through Text, Drama, First Love, First Love Angst, M/M, Same Age, Scott is hungry and confident of Stiles's game, Scott is trying to be helpful, Scotty Ships It, Supportive!Scott, teenage angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2018-06-01 09:06:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6512110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebekahdarian/pseuds/rebekahdarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The five times Stiles types a text to Derek asking him out on a date and deletes it. And the one time he accidentally hits send.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, I Want to Date You.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you [@gia279](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Gia279/pseuds/Gia279) for being a wonderful betta. Once I figure out how to link your name to your profile again I'll link you here :)

**1**  
Stiles bounced his leg up and down impatiently, staring blankly at the screen on his phone. Derek’s name in the recipient’s box sat unwavering, waiting for him to just type his message and send it already.

Stiles tapped his thumb against the side of his phone. 

They’d been not-really-dating for a couple weeks now, an unidentified blob of a relationship that was fraying Stiles’s nerves. They’d seen a couple movies together, and had even hung out after school with Derek’s sisters, and Stiles was definitely attracted to him…

“But what if he doesn’t like me back?” Stiles groaned out loud.

His phone clattered to the kitchen table and he brought his hands to his head, running his fingers through his hair.

He jerked violently when the microwave beeped, having completely forgotten he had put anything in there. 

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered furiously, standing to retrieve his food. “All you have to do is text ‘I want to date you’.” His heart tripped just saying the words.

He pulled the door to the microwave open and stared at the TV dinner, making a silent vow to go grocery shopping tomorrow.

“But that sounds so lame.” He rotated the dinner like the directions said to do and slammed the microwave door. “What if,” Stiles continued, “he just isn’t into me, and I put my feelings on the line and then everything just turns awkward between us and just isn’t good anymore. And this has me so worked up I’m talking to myself!”

He flopped into a chair at the table and picked up his phone, swiping his finger over the screen to bring it back to life. 

He tapped his thumb against the side of the phone again before taking a deep breath.

‘ **Want to go out for dinner sometime?** ’ He typed quickly, ready to get all the words out, hit send, and hide. ‘ **Like a date?** ’, he added to clarify.

He stared at the message. That’ll work, he told himself, just hit send. His fingers darted between the ‘send’ and ‘cancel’ buttons, not sure which one to push.

The microwaved beeped that it was done and his thumb landed on ‘cancel’.

 

 **2**  
“Did you do it?” Scott asked. His excited tone made Stiles cringe. 

They pushed their way through the classroom door and into the sea of backpacks and elbows that had become the hallway. 

“No,” Stiles admitted. He turned his head to look at a clock hanging on the wall in an attempt to avoid Scott’s gaze. 

“Why not?” Scott gasped, shoving at a senior when he ran into them. 

“You don’t understand!” Stiles snapped, trying to keep his voice down so no one could over hear. “What if he doesn’t like me back?”

They neared the split in the hall where they would have to depart to separate classes. 

“Just send it.” Scott gave him a winning smile. “You two would make an awesome couple.”

“What do I _say_?” Stiles groused, making floundering motions with his hands.

“Whatever you want. Make it something flowery and poetic if that makes you happy.” Scott beamed.

Stiles glowered, but he didn’t have time to say anything else before the warning bell rang. 

“Text him,” Scott insisted, darting off to class.

Stiles huffed, shuffling off in the direction of his own class. He paused outside the classroom and pulled his phone from his pocket. He opened a blank text. 

‘ **Roses are red, Violets are blue, I want to date you.** ’

Stiles jammed his thumb down on the ‘cancel’ button and stalked into class.

 

 **3**  
Stiles pulled into his driveway and turned off the jeep. He sat completely still for a second, staring at the phone in the cup holder.

Why couldn’t Derek just text him first? He’d say yes in a _heartbeat_ if Derek asked him on a date. 

He took a deep breath, steadying himself before going into the house.

His father’s police cruiser sat next to him, and his dad would be the first person, other than Scott, to sense something was amiss. 

He could just text Derek and get it over with, then he would have nothing to worry about once he was inside. Just one text, that’s all he had to do.

He picked up his phone and opened the messages.

‘ **Derek, I like you. Scott says I should text you how I feel. So here I go. I want to go on a date with you, please don’t let this be awkward between us if you don’t like me back. In fact, if you don’t want to, just imagine I didn’t text anything at all to begin with.** ’ Stiles nodded.

That text seemed to cover all the bases. All he’d have to worry about was if Derek couldn’t pretend he’d never texted, if he so desired.

His heart raced. He didn’t want to ruin what they had if this made things awkward. 

“Stiles?” His dad opened the front door of the house. “What are you doing?”

Stiles hit the ‘cancel’ button and simultaneously opened the car door. 

“Giving myself grey hair.” He smiled, dragging his backpack out behind him and trying to act natural.

His dad raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

 

 **4**  
Stiles was draped across his bed looking at the ceiling. He was meeting Scott later at the McCall house to work on a history project and, if he were entirely honest with himself, he should have been leaving that moment to make it on time.

He rolled onto his stomach with a sigh. He just didn’t want Scott to ask him again if he’d texted Derek.

Scott hadn’t asked anyone out yet, either, so what did he know?

Stiles glanced at his phone, which was propped up on his pillow. He grabbed it, pulling it down in front of his face.

He opened a message to Derek, _again_ , and felt his heart start to hammer, almost as if it was a trained response.

Maybe this wasn’t something he should be doing through text if it made him so uncomfortable.

‘ **Hey, I need to talk to you later.,** ’ Oh, god, that sounded ominous. ‘ **Are you free to meet me somewhere after 7-ish? Scott and I are doing a project.** ’

Stiles blinked at the message. That wasn’t so bad.

Then if Scott asked if he texted Derek yet he could say yes.

But what would he say to Derek once they were face-to-face? What if Derek said yes but his expression and body language said no? What if just by being in person Derek felt pressured to say yes?

Stiles canceled the message and rolled out of bed, mentally preparing himself for Scott’s questions and subsequent disappointment.

 

 **5**  
It was just after 7pm when Stiles arrived back home. They had managed to finish their entire project before Scott brought Derek up. 

Stiles had shaken his head and just stayed quiet. The silence grew uncomfortable, and Scott seemed to get the hint.

“I’ll stop bugging you.” Scott sounded dejected but apologetic.

Stiles nodded his thanks before making up an excuse to go home.

He jumped out of the jeep and walked slowly up the drive.

He was sad and frustrated with himself. If he would have just sent the first message, chances are he’d have his answer by now. Or, his brain supplied, no reply at all, which would be an answer itself.

He let himself into the house, closing the door quietly behind him and slunk up to his room. 

“This isn’t rocket science,” he muttered, pulling his phone from his pocket and sitting down on the bed. “Plenty of other people survive rejection.” Part of him whined that he hadn’t yet proven _he_ could.

He opened a message his fingers automatically typing Derek’s name in.

‘ **Can we go on a date sometime?** ’

The message was simple, to the point. Stiles still reread it three times, thumb hovering over the ‘send’ button. His stomach twisted sickly. 

“I’ll do it in the morning,” he said, canceling the _fifth_ message he’d typed to Derek.

 

 **+1**  
“I don’t know what to say,” Stiles admitted, sitting down with Scott at their habitual lunch table. “This could be some new modern type of torture.”

“You’ve had practice,” Scott said around a mouthful of food. 

“Doesn’t make this any easier. I just, I think I need help.” Stiles dropped his head into his upraised hands. 

Scott pressed his lips together thoughtfully. The silence carried for a minute or two before Scott spoke. “Maybe write a draft and attack it like an English paper? And slowly edit until you like it?”

“Okay, yes.” Stiles nodded enthusiastically. “That could work, that’ll give me time to figure out what I want to say and.” He stopped and took a deep breath. “Yes.”

Stiles pushed his tray of food into the middle of the table and fished his phone from his pocket. He could type a draft, he’d been texting drafts for days.

‘ **I’ve typed this message five times now and deleted every single one. I’m not really sure how to say this, part of me wants to ask you in person, but to be honest, I’m scared of what your reaction could be. I’ve liked you for a long time now, and I feel like we’ve just gotten closer. I don’t want to ruin our friendship, and I’d like to go out with you some time, but I also don’t want to make things awkward between us if you don’t. Please don’t leave me hanging in silence, I feel like that would be worse than just a ‘no thanks’. Movies are half price on Wednesdays :)** ”

Stiles smiled after he added the emoji.

It felt good to get all his feelings and worries out in a text.

He turned his hand to show Scott the message and pressed ‘save’ with his thumb. The _sent_ tone chimed and made him freeze. 

Scott stared wide eyed back at him from across the table.

Stiles yanked the phone back, frantically hitting as many buttons as he could to try and stop the text but the word ‘ **delivered** ’ had already appeared under the message.

Stiles turned the screen off on his phone, his heart pounding in his chest. 

“What did I just do?” he whispered. 

Scott stuffed a piece of food into his mouth. “That’s one way to ask, I guess.”

“No, no, this is bad.” Stiles turned the screen back on and held down the power button until his phone shut down. “That was a draft. That message wasn’t supposed to be sent!” He shoved the phone back in his pocket with trembling fingers. “What if he reads it?” It felt like his heart was trying to escape his chest, all wiggling and thumping.

“Then you’ll have your answer?” Scott asked, clearly unsure of if that was a trick question. And he was _still shoving food in his mouth._

“We’ve got to delete it from his phone,” Stiles said. “And will you stop eating?! I’m having a crisis here!”

“What?” A startled laugh escaped Scott’s lips. “Stiles, this isn’t a Disney movie, there’s nothing you can do now. It was already sent and delivered.” He ripped his cornbread in half and shoved a piece in his mouth. “And I’m hungry,” he mumbled.

Stiles placed his elbows on the table and his head in his hands, prepared to leave his phone off all day. Maybe after a day of denial, he would be numbed to the rejection.

 

The rest of the school day felt as though it took forever. Stiles was so high-strung when the final bell rang that he bolted from class and down the hall.

He started sprinting for the parking lot when he made it past the front office.

All he wanted to do was go home and drown in a bucket of ice cream.

His dad was working late and wouldn’t be home until 2am, to which Stiles was eternally grateful; he’d at least be hidden in his room somewhere if not asleep by the time his dad got home.

The drive to his house passed just as slowly as the school day.

He jumped out of the jeep the second he made it in the driveway and let himself into the house.

He’d turned on the TV, grabbed the tub of ice cream, and had calmed his racing heart by the time the doorbell rang.

Stiles sighed. “Leave me alone, Scott! I’m dealing with this in my own way!” The bell chimed again. Irritated, he marched toward the front door, and swung it open. “Scott, I said-” he let out a slow hiss, like air being let out of a balloon, at the sight of Derek on the porch.

“You’re phone is off. Is everything okay?” Derek asked, eyebrows pulled down ever so slightly.

Stiles opened and closed his mouth, his throat suddenly dry. Surely Derek had seen the message by _now._

“Fine.” The word came out squeaky and strained. Stiles cleared his throat and shifted his weight from side-to-side, unsure of himself.

“I got your message.”

Stiles’s heart made another escape attempt while his stomach turned into a cold pit of dread. “Look, I, uh, that message….” Stiles trailed off, seeing Derek slowly arch a single brow. Stiles felt judged.

“I replied earlier and didn’t get a response, so I called. Which is how I knew your phone was off. Just wanted to make sure you were alright,” Derek said.

Stiles gave a jerky nod; he felt like he was waiting on the executioner’s axe. 

“I’ll pay for movie tickets on Wednesday night if you buy popcorn.” The words slipped so confidently off of Derek’s lips that Stiles felt tingling shock, then relief race through his body, quickly turning his muscles into Jell-O. 

“What?” he asked, bracing himself against the doorway. “Seriously?” His voice kicked up a octave in excitement. 

Now Derek nodded, his lips thinning in what looked like _nerves_.

“Yes, yes, of course, I’ll buy as much popcorn as they have,” Stiles babbled, looking around excitedly, like he was going to hunt the popcorn himself, before finally settling his gaze on Derek’s face.

A small smile quirked its way across Derek’s lips. “Okay. It’s a date then.”


End file.
